Safe and Sound
by KelliP
Summary: 'The crack of the bullet echoes loud in her ear as it leaves the chamber barely a split second before the line cuts off, nothing but a haunting silence left for her to hear.' What happens after the phone call is cut off. Speculation for 5x16 Hunt.


**A/N:** After the rampant fic-reading I went on last year between Pandora and Linchpin, I swore I wouldn't read or write anything for the two-parter until it was over. Then this happened.

Spoilers in this are, in my opinion, quite minor. If you hadn't seen the spoilers, you wouldn't even know. This is mainly speculation for the sake of it because my mind started to wander after watching the sneaks. Still, if you're spoiler-free, consider this your chance to turn away. For those who aren't, enjoy.

* * *

**SAFE AND SOUND**

* * *

The crack of the bullet echoes loud in her ear as it leaves the chamber barely a split second before the line cuts off, nothing but a haunting silence left for her to hear. Not even a moment passes before the absolute dread spears through her veins, stops her heart to leave nothing but a hollow cavity of fear.

"Castle?" Her voice is not even a whisper, yet trembling in terror, just like the hand holding the phone to her ear.

No response.

Beckett lowers the hand barely clutching the phone from her ear and checks the screen.

The line is dead.

He's not there.

She was on the phone to Castle, then-

Nothing.

_Castle_.

She draws in a shaky breath, tries to bury the fast-rising terror as she wills herself not to panic. There's another explanation. There has to be. She won't accept anything other than how Castle is fine. He's fine. He's fine.

The chant does nothing to ease her anxious mind.

The adrenaline fires off suddenly, heart all but drumming out of her chest. With each pounding beat the muscle tears apart a little more, chest aching then constricting, too tight, so suffocating. The world around her begins to fade, inky spots blackening her vision, taking over. Her lungs burn, no oxygen for relief. Breathe. She needs to breathe.

She can't.

_Castle_.

Without a word he'd flown to Paris, a desperate measure from a man desperate for his little girl. Left her behind without hesitation, sworn to her he was with his mother because he hadn't wanted her to sway him to stay.

She wouldn't have tried to sway him.

She would have gone with him.

_Castle_.

Yet the visit to his loft had uncovered his plans all too late. Martha's pleas had been to no avail, the promise from Beckett that she'd help in whatever way she could the only thing that had kept him on the line.

"I have to get her back," he'd told her sternly, the tremors in his voice long gone to leave only a fierce determination. "I have to get my daughter back."

"I know." She'd understood. She had. She does. "Just- please promise me that you'll be safe."

It wasn't a promise he'd made.

They both knew it was one he couldn't keep.

_Castle_.

Her legs grow weak, unsteady and beginning to shake, then they give out. Knees buckling she stumbles, barely managing to catch herself on the edge of the table before she hits the floor hard. Her knuckles turn white with the iron grip she has on the wooden edge, but there's a pit opening up beneath her, the absolute blackness swirling, drawing her in, taking her under. She gasps for air but it's gone before it fills her lungs, throat closed off with a knot that's so tight and suffocating.

"Beckett?" Ryan's voice is quivers just a little, the fear already spreading over his features as he takes in the sight of her, face crestfallen and body hunched over the table. "Everything okay?"

No.

_Castle_.

She turns to Ryan with the only order she can think to give. "Get me on the next flight to Paris."

* * *

LaGuardia is too busy, the crowds so unaware as people bustle by her, pushing her aside as they scurry on, stifling her as they crowd around the gate. It's unnerving, stomach sinking low and twisting nauseatingly. Just the idea that they can all carry on with their lives as if the entire world hasn't shifted on its axis looms over her, terrifying.

Weaving her way through the crowd she finds a spare seat by her gate in the corner, away from eyes that don't care in the slightest. Beckett ducks her head, lets a curtain of falling curls hide her from the world as she blends into the background. She's jittery as she sits, unable to keep from twisting and turning in the old barely-cushioned seat, knee bouncing uncontrollably, not stopping until she presses a firm palm atop her jean-covered thigh.

From her pocket she digs out her phone once again, double-checks the time. Boarding will begin any minute now. A glimpse of a sign on the wall that says _cell phones prohibited on board_ triggers her finger to stretch for the off button, but just in time cell chimes to life in her open palm. Her thumb swipes across the screen to answer without so much as a glance at the number.

"Castle?" she breathes. Please. _Please_.

"Kate?"

Oh. Oh, thank God.

"Castle," she chokes out in relief. Beckett presses a palm across her mouth, smothers the sob that wracks from deep in her chest. "Castle. I thought- I thought-"

"I'm okay."

His words of reassurance do little to ease the tension constricting her body. Even in her seat she doubles over, unable to keep herself upright with the weight of the situation bearing down on her.

"I wish you would have told me what you were doing."

His answer comes closed off, a man only thinking about his daughter. "You would have tried to stop me."

"I would have come with you."

There's a pause, as if it's an option he hadn't considered.

"It's better you're not involved," he responds with a long few seconds later.

It takes everything in her to suppress the growl in her throat before it rises any further. Of the two of them, she's not the one that needs protecting. "You shouldn't be doing this alone."

There's another pregnant pause, this one telling, giving him away. "I'm not alone."

Her eyelids slip shut, squeezing together tight to block out his words, fingers of her free hand spanning across her face to rub at each temple, work at the headache brought on all too quickly with the realisation of exactly what he's saying. "Castle-"

"I'm not arguing about this, Beckett," he growls at her.

She falls silent at the sharp tone of his voice, a weight heavy as it crushes down on her chest. He's not thinking clearly, the desperation for his daughter clouding his judgement.

Yet he's right. Arguing with one another won't bring his daughter home. So even against her better judgement, Beckett swallows her pride and gives in to him. "What do you need me to do?"

There's something of a quite breath of relief that fills her ear a moment before she hears the notes of his voice. "When you called me earlier, you started to tell me something about Alexis?"

No hesitation, she tells him everything she knows.

The attendant announces boarding just as the line is disconnected.

She doesn't get on the plane. Instead, she turns to walk away from the terminal.

He needs her to be here.

* * *

Beckett stands steady beside Martha, one hand on the woman's elbow as she gives much-needed support.

They're at the airport. Have been for an hour now, awaiting the flight returning from Paris. The plane landed not a minute ago, airport protocol the only thing remaining between Castle and herself. Not even customs and immigration stands between them as they wait ready at the gate, a perk of the FBI's involvement.

The El-Masri's stand beside Beckett in wait of their daughter, husband and wife clutching each other tight as suspense settles over them. Gates and Agent Harris stand a few feet behind her, though long forgotten. All her attention is trained on the set of double-doors, just waiting for Castle to appear at any moment.

And then he does. For the first time in near twenty-four hours the vice on her heart relinquishes its grip, the breath trapped in her throat finally escaping her lips as he steps into the terminal.

_Castle_.

He's here and safe, daughter tucked against his side underneath the protective wing of his arm. The sight of father and daughter draws Martha away from Beckett's side, the older woman moving to throw her arms around her family.

He's safe.

They're all safe.

Yet she holds back her relief, presses a pausing hand to her stomach, a reminder to wait her turn as family reunite. But he doesn't forget her. The moment Alexis is in the safety of her grandmother's arms Castle turns, eyes seeking for her.

"Kate?" His voice is so gentle as he calls her name, eyes wide with little boy wonder as he takes in the sight of her.

He darts for her, and she meets him halfway, falling effortlessly into his arms. His arms circle around her waist, skirt up her sides, palms rising to cup each cheek gently as he cradles her in his embrace.

"Kate," he breathes again.

And then his lips are on hers. It's so fierce and soft and desperate all at the same time, the heat of his body and the beat of his heart so powerful, taking over her every fibre, providing comfort, relief.

In that moment, everything is forgotten.

When they break away a long minute later, there's nothing but a smooth and overwhelming relief on her face. The tips of her fingers sweep tenderly underneath his eyes, brushing away the heartache that no longer needs to hold a place on his face.

"Let's go home, Castle." Even as she speaks, her eyes slide over his shoulder to seek where his daughter stands in her grandmother's embrace. "Let's get you both home."

* * *

Even with the weight of the day, it's late when Alexis finally falls to sleep that night, tucked away safe and sound in her bedroom. It's even later when Castle relinquishes his post at the foot of her bed and retreats to his own. Beckett is still awake though, fully clothed, waiting for him in the privacy of his bedroom as she's done all afternoon.

His gait is slow as he shuffles in, shoulders hunched, face crestfallen. Underneath the doorframe he pauses, eyes clouding over as they meet hers. She presses an open palm to her stomach, forces herself to remain upright, wills herself not to break because he's _here_ and he's _safe_ but-

"Please don't ever do that to me again," she whispers. "Castle, I- _please_."

"I'm sorry," he offers.

He's not.

And there's nothing she can do to change that. She hates that she can't be mad at him for this. That she can't scream at him that he should have known better, because it was _Alexis_- his only child, his entire world.

She hates that she understands. She wants to be mad.

She'll settle for loving him instead.

So his apology is dismissed with a gentle shake of her head. "No. You- you don't need to be sorry for anything."

"Thank you," he tries instead, insistent on giving her something. "For helping me to get my daughter back."

Beckett shakes her head again. "You don't need to thank me for that, Castle."

There's a long beat of silence as the cloud in his eyes slowly lifts to reveal a sudden clarity.

"I love you, Kate."

His voice rings true in the silence of the night. The corners of her lips curl upward at his words, voice soft but sure. "I know."

She moves across the room, heading for him. His hands between hers, she guides him over to his bed, sits him on the edge and wordlessly divests him of his clothes. Once he lies in the safe haven of his bed, protected as he rests between the silk sheets, she follows suit, stripping down before sliding in bare beside him.

Tender hands reach for her immediately, encircling her slender waist to tug her gently toward him. It's effortless as she lets him, instinct as she curls her body around his. His mouth seeks out hers, fast, hot, desperate. The kiss is bruising, wide hands spaning across her waist, his touch powerful as he draws her closer to him, ever closer.

"I love you," he breathes against her neck, the notes of his voice floating up to her ear.

Whorls of her fingertips dig into his back, clutching to him. "I know."

He covers her body with his, solid frame protective, the broad span of his shoulders fierce. She's so pliable in his arms, so willing, their reunion so sweet yet desperate all the same. But there's still the ear-splitting crack of the gunshot that echoes in her mind, a reminder of what she almost lost.

A reminder to love what she has.

He's okay.

He loves her.

He's safe.

_She loves_ _him_ _too_.

* * *

She doesn't sleep that night, and neither does he. She loses count of the number of times he slips out of bed to check on Alexis, though not once does she stop him. Just waits for his return, provides open arms for him to curl into.

The clock is just striking half-past-three when his head falls to curve of her neck, body already shuddering with the rip of tremors he can't hold back. She cradles him, lips lingering against his forehead in a kiss of reassurance and love as the gravity of the day finally breaks over him.

Tomorrow is a new day. They'll all start afresh.

For now, he rests in the safety of her arms.


End file.
